


Kinda

by ChocolatePudding



Series: Panties [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean kinda likes it, F/M, Oneshot, Oral Sex, Panty Kink, Women's Underwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:39:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1273546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolatePudding/pseuds/ChocolatePudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll suck you off if you put them on," she says with a pout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kinda

**Author's Note:**

> Picture at end is NSFW.

Rhonda isn't that much different, at first glance. She's got dark reddish brown hair that starts off straight and starts to get wavy past her ears, which have three piercings each- two in each lobe and one in each delicate shell of cartilage. Her eyes are a warm chocolate brown and her nose is freckled and peeling a bit from a sunburn. 

It's the nineties. Dean is nineteen years old and not exactly miserable- Sam is still sticking around, they spend weeks and months at a time at Bobby's, he gets laid a lot, and oh yeah, he gets laid a lot. A lot a lot. Like, a ton. 

Chelsea had been sweet, all sugar cookie lip balm and blonde ponytail held back with a blue ribbon. Dean remembers running a hand alongside her inner thigh beneath her deliciously short cheerleading dress. But she was back in Flagstaff and they are already too far away for a booty call. Besides, she wasn't technically legal even though she was barely thirteen months younger than him. 

Dean steels himself, patting his pockets to find his wallet, knowing that he's got several twenties in there and a fake drivers' license that together will get him thoroughly drunk if he doesn't find some girl after two or three. 

The first one he talks to is engaged (which hasn't always stopped Dean, in truth) to some guy named Jeremy so he gives up. The second one excuses herself to the restroom (and Dean sees her leave with Jeremy's fiancée- ouch) and then there she is. Dean can tell her ID is as fake as his own but the bartender is none the wiser or simply doesn't care. 

(Hey, I'm Dean. Now that I've given away my name, care to lend me yours? That's a terrible line. Sorry, I get nervous around the pretty ones.)

Dean makes her come twice: once with his tongue buried deep inside her, and again when he's leaning back on the arm of her couch and she's on his lap and he's got his arms wrapped around her, one across her shoulders and one around her waist, holding her in place while he thrusts into her- (fuck, Dean, yes- god, fuck, yes- Dean-)

 

"Want some pizza?" Rhonda asks after she's gotten her breath back, puffs of air hot against his collarbone. 

"Uh," Dean says because he's still a little raw around the edges. 

"Pizza. I'm assuming you've heard of it?" Rhonda says cheekily before getting off of him nonchalantly and heading to the apartment's cordless phone. She stands there, entirely naked save for a tangle of reddish curls between her legs and the scratches Dean endowed along her back, entirely confident in her body, as she orders the pizza, and it's one of the sexiest things he's seen in a long time. He knows that she knows that this isn't anything meaningful, and he thinks that he knows that she's okay with that. Maybe even more so than he is himself. For some reason that irks him- he's supposed to be 

They spend the time waiting for the pizza languidly making out. When the doorbell buzzes, Rhonda belatedly seems to realize that she's entirely naked and grabs his boxers from the floor, along with his shirt, and runs to open the door. 

After they eat, Dean clears his throat and thanks her, not sure whether it's for the pizza or the sex. 

"I need my underwear back," he says after she doesn't move. 

"You can have mine," she says nonchalantly. Dean's eyebrows raise to the ceiling. 

"You're not- you're serious," he says with a frown. 

"Yep. They'd suit you," followed by a salacious wink. 

"No."

"I'll suck you off if you put them on," she says with a pout. And a taunting lick of her lips. Dean can feel himself hardening and she can see it too. Fuck, it's only a bit of cloth. Doesn't matter, does it? A blow job is a pretty lucrative reason to wear something out of the ordinary. 

He self-consciously steps into them the same way he would step into a pair of briefs. The panties are still dewy from earlier usage (Dean rubs his thumb along her slit, through her pink underwear, sucking in the moan that she releases). They make a stretching tear noise but he catches her eye- her pupils are blown- and her slight nod encourages him onwards. 

They feel weird. 

They're too tight in most places, and a little too loose on his ass. The satin rubs against his straining dick and okay that's fucking amazing. 

Rhonda agrees, if the hand between her legs is anything to go by. She gets herself off once more before kneeling in front of him, pulling the fabric to one side and taking him down eagerly. 

"Fuck," Dean hisses as she uses her hands on the part she can't fit in her mouth. The fact that he's still wearing the panties should probably be a major turn off, but the satin is rubbing against his balls. He grabs a fistful of her hair and she moans, the vibrations amazing against his sensitive member. It takes him an embarrassingly short time to come and he flops on the couch, panting, as she spits his spunk in the sink and brushes her teeth. 

She won't give him his underwear back and eventually he has to leave, but only after she starts taking photographs of him and that's either hot or creepy. The jury's still out on that one.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't write. I'm terribly sorry. Anyhow, I plan to turn this into a Destiel series.


End file.
